


Wrestling

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fake Character Death, Love/Hate, M/M, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anonymous request on tumblr: "John Watson/Sebastian Moran. Fight Sex. Sebastian tops. John is not portrayed as weak. Moran is just stronger. Thank you. <3"</p><p>Basically, Sebastian comes to John's new flat, and they reach an arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrestling

"Hello?" John said, staring at the man in the doorway.

"Hi," the unfamiliar visitor said, grinning widely in a way that immediately set John on edge. "You don't know me, but I know a hell of a lot about you."

"Oh do you?" John said, looking the man up and down. Well-muscled, slightly scruffy hair, keen eyes. 

"Yes. Going to invite me in, aren't you?"

John paused for a moment to consider the situation. The man's stance indicated he was likely armed. If they got inside, John could be armed too, with some quick thinking.

"Okay." It was the first bit of danger since Sherlock, after all. Just because he'd lost Sherlock cold turkey didn't mean he didn't still crave the taste of the battlefield. "Welcome to my flat. It's not much, is it?"

"You're tidier than he was," the man at the door said, and stepped inside.

"Right, well." John turned away and swallowed hard. It felt like a low blow. "Tea?"

"Go ahead. We've got time," the man said, and seated himself in John's chair, pulling the Union Jack pillow into his lap and eyeing the texture of it as John clinked about in the kitchen.

"Time, eh? Time for what?" called John.

"Time for tea." 

John turned around and leaned against the counter. "Alright. And what else?"

The man heaved a sigh. "That remains to be seen." The phrasing made the hair at the back of John's neck stand up.

"So, just who are you?"

"Colonel Sebastian Moran. And you're Captain John Watson. Dr. John Watson. Best friend of Sherlock Holmes, who's dead."

"Get that from the, ah, papers, did you?" John smiled a bit, forcing it in place and giving little else away in his expression.

"No, not quite." Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and rough. He seemed to be a man who had a dark sense of humor and not much else left going for him. Well, presumably, he also had a gun. 

"Then how do you know that?"

"Because I lost someone who meant more to me than anyone else, Captain. I lost an employer, a lover, and a friend."

John took a moment to process it, fixing the tea, considering. He licked his lips in concentration and asked, back still turned to his visitor, "Moriarty?"

"Yes." The word sounded so hollow. John turned around, holding one of the mugs out to Sebastian with a hand that didn't tremble in the slightest. 

"Was he nicer, when you were alone?" 

Sebastian's eyes widened, flooding with emotion, with understanding. He cleared his throat, setting the mug down. He linked his hands, no, clenched them together. "He cherished me," he said, and John understood the pain.

"Sherlock cherished me too, in his way," John said. He looked over at the man, then crossed the room and sat near him. "You're armed, yeah? Well, if you want to shoot me, that seems a bit cowardly, don't you think?"

"I don't know, Captain. It takes a lot to pull a trigger. You'd know."

John tilted his head in agreement. "Do you take sugar? Milk?"

"Naw, I like it as is." Sebastian picked up his tea again, blew on it, took a sip. "Not bad," he commented.

"Bet you're used to nicer," John said, feeling like things had become lighter. "Bet he was rolling in it. Had a butler for the cat even."

Sebastian laughed a low, wheezy laugh. "Don't make me laugh. I came to at least beat you a little. Don't wanna laugh while I'm doing it, I'll look...." He trailed off and buried his face in the mug.

"Like Jim?" John said. He could picture Jim kicking him and laughing in that high-pitched giggle.

Sebastian's head whipped around to look at John with a heavy stare. "Fuck you," he said. "One more comment like that and I'll tie you up and shoot a hole through your dick."

John swallowed. He licked his lips in nervousness and sipped at more tea. Then, in the heavy silence, he sat his mug on the table, cracked his neck carefully, and turned to face Sebastian as much as possible. 

"Are you seriously challenging me, you insignificant little prick?" Sebastian was staring at him with something between disgust and respect. They were too alike.

"Unless you'd prefer to recount stories of your dead boyfriend who was, by the way, a psychopath."

Sebastian sighed in relief. "You believe in him too, then. Good. Not enough people do." 

John slumped back into the sofa again. "You have to stop being so relatable," he teased. "But, yeah...I mean, I remember him. I even put him in a hold so we'd blow up together."

"I remember that." Sebastian sat up a little straighter. "I should take you out just for reminding me." He finally pulled out his weapon, lazily training it on John for a moment before holding it loosely in his hand. "Was Holmes your boyfriend as well?"

"No," John shook his head.

"You'd have liked to see if he could have been though," Sebastian said. John nodded. "This is pathetic."

John reached for his tea again. "It is, a bit."

"Did you have sex with him? Anything? Even a kiss?" John shook his head to the questions. "Just friends, then."

"Friends who flirted an awful lot. Everyone thought we were together, even M...your boss," he added. "We weren't, though. It could have worked out," he said, drawing in a slow breath through his nose. "But it didn't. And speculation would be ridiculous."

"True."

"It doesn't mean I miss him less than you miss your boss. It's just...different."

Sebastian suddenly studied John's face. "You wanted him, though. Sex. You have trust issues, don't you? Probably not a lot of prospects."

John nodded. "No one that means anything. There was just him, for that."

Sebastian tossed the gun onto the floor, kicked it across the room. "You're all I have left of Moriarty," he said. "You're the proof Jim was a total dick."

"I don't need you," John replied, taking his empty mug back into the kitchen area. "I've got other people who believe in Sherlock."

"You're forgetting something about me."

John turned slowly, giving himself time to think of what to say. "And that is?" he finally asked.

"I'm dangerous." Sebastian opened his arms, gestured to himself. "I'm strong and I'm grieving and you're, well, you're kind of cute, aren't you?"

John said nothing, staring at Sebastian and mentally weighing his options of getting to the gun first. Perhaps it wasn't loaded and there was a second gun on the man. Did any of it really matter? Sebastian didn't want to kill him anymore, did he? John couldn't be sure.

"It'll be like with Jim."

"Sorry?"

"Sometimes we'd fight and fuck at the same time, if you can imagine. He'd call it 'getting domestic'." Another wheezy laugh. "He was brilliant. Although, he was prone to bouts of—"

"—boredom," John finished. "Now, when you say fight?" He swallowed. Perhaps he was actually considering it.

"I prefer wrestling. Holds and such. Maybe a few slaps, a punch here or there. Nothing nasty. And Jim didn't like to get his hands dirty, so it was more about setting the mood than about damage."

It almost sounded nice, John thought. Then he wondered what what wrong with him. "So, we get over our dead geniuses in a night of passion, and then what?"

Sebastian scowled. "Don't ruin it by planning ahead."

"Okay, agreed, agreed."

***

John relished the tight hold he was in, appreciative of the muscles of the trained killing machine above him. He felt safe in a way he couldn't explain, and was glad Sherlock wasn't around to ask questions.

Not then, anyway. He wasn't around just then.


End file.
